


Honey Trap

by Oceans_Away



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Dreamlike, Early Relationship, F/M, Food Sex, Group Sex, Hera can wreck me, Mortal Realm, Multi, My friends made me do it, Naughty nymphs, Prequel, Sticky and sweet, That's not my joke I just love it, Zeus is a NYMPHomaniac, titanomachy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26481736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceans_Away/pseuds/Oceans_Away
Summary: In their early relationship during the Titanomachy, Hera leads Zeus into the mountains and overwhelms his senses with her honey nymph accomplices.I refuse to accept how hot I find Zeus, and I thoroughly blame Chinchela's Thirsty Witches for this fic happening. They know what they did.Song:Such Sweet Thunder, Duke Ellington
Relationships: Hera/Zeus (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Honey Trap

“Where are we going?”

Zeus follows Hera through the brush of dry grass and shrubs, holding her hand lightly, drifting in her wildflower scent, like an insomniac through a field of opium poppies.

“You’ll see.”

She gives his hand a small squeeze. It sends a tingle up the vein in his forearm, he rolls his shoulders to pour the feeling pleasingly down his spine. The sun is setting. It casts across the mountain, washing the pale rock in rich, flowing amber and deep, velvet shadow. His calves smoulder from the steep trek, his bare feet dusty from the path, a clean film of sweat on his back and thighs making him glisten. Hera glistens too. Her dark dress flutters above her ankles and drops low on her back. Her shoulder blades move under her skin, as if she is about to sprout wings and lift him into the sky. One day, when Kronos is dead, when the war is over, when he is king, he will take her all the way to the top of this mountain. He will build a kingdom for her, and they will fly forever. Her feet are small and pretty, as they patter on the stone. Her hair streams out to the side, the sun streaking its sumptuous, citrus yellow with blood - a victory flag for the rebellion. The Golden Traitor. They would all be nothing without her. He would be nothing. 

They reach a plateau and stop. The Mortal Realm cascades out below them, fading into a red haze at the rim of the vast world. The sunset spills flame across the tranquil fields and groves and rivers. She is still holding his hand. She comes barely to his chest, she is compact, it’s overwhelmingly cute. He wants to gather her up into his arms, like a bundle of fresh cut wheat. But she steps in front of the blinding orb of the sun, the delicious colour of split nectarine, and her strength takes his breath away. Her stance is resolute, but somehow always poised to spring. Her body is moulded in firm, tough muscle. Her fingers curl naturally into the beginnings of fists, her shoulders straighten and drop from her long neck, her chin proud. Her dress lies over the smooth sculpt of her hips and thighs, drawing his eye helplessly. The phoenix blaze radiates behind her, silhouetting her, making her stark and stunning, making her soar. He tightens his grip on her hand to keep her here on the earth. With him. 

The dark mouth of a cavern yawns beside them.

Hera pulls him inside. 

They dissolve out of the sunset.

The cavern is ready for them; she must have been here earlier, the wiley minx. Oil lamps burn at the edges, their flames pulsing out into the deep black, swirling red-gold into the darkness, like blood into water. In the centre, the floor is covered in furs, sleek and soft, scattered with heather petals that freshen the air’s warm, prickling scent of animal hide and earth. Somewhere he can hear the musical echo of an underground stream and roots creaking through the rock. 

As they sink to the furs, the heady hide scent intensifies, then is overwhelmed by the sweet, moreish fragrance of Hera’s marjoram perfume. He doesn’t remember undressing, but their clothes are gone. She puppets him to sit back. The furs graze and cushion him, as she slides into his lap. Her thighs wrap his waist, his stomach flips. Her breasts and belly melt against his bare torso, warmth flowing through him. Her hair falls forward around his face and envelops him in mint and smoke. Her hands take up his jaw and he feels like he’s hanging from her touch. 

She kisses him.

Kissing Hera is a dream. It’s nourishment. It’s sunlight. Her lips are soft, giving, but insistent, hungry. Her appetite calls to his, stirring in his abdomen. He pushes himself up, arching his back to deepen their closeness, singed by the friction from her skin. He opens his mouth for her, he needs more, he’s pleading for it, demanding it. He searches with his tongue and draws hers out, uncoils it and massages it, until he can taste her mouth watering. It thrills him that she responds to him so easily. She rises to him like smoke to a chimney, driven by nature, propelled on the air. He’s rising too. She pushes harder into their kiss, then sinks down, sighing. Her pussy drags over the tip of his cock, smearing it wet, grinding it hot. He moans into her mouth and feels her smile. He smiles too. His eyes flicker a fraction open. She’s glaring into him. Her hard, citrine irises are as bright in the oil lamps as in midday sun. She’s always so bright. His golden one. 

He smiles wider, grasps her tighter. He drops his kiss to her neck. She opens it for him instantly. Her skin is warm and supple and smooth. She tastes of sage and palm oil and the salt of her sweat from the climb. A quiet groan slithers from his chest, as he winds around her and sucks her ichor to the surface, bringing a fire opal glimmer to her yellow jasper flesh. She hums into his ear. He shudders. Her fingers comb into his hair and tease his scalp. He catches his breath. She scoops her hips and wreaths his cock in her heat. He turns stone hard. It never takes her much.

He feels a touch on his shoulder. Then a gentle, stranger’s hand curls over it. He raises from Hera’s neck. He starts to turn to look at the touch, but two hands are on his shoulders now, guiding him onto his back. He lets them. He is aching from the hike and light-headed from the mountain air. He has been commanding the Six Traitors’ battles for weeks. He wants to lie down. The furs nestle into the furrows of muscle in his back, he feels himself flood with relief. He blinks up to where the new touch came from. Kneeling at his head, looking down on him with large, liquid eyes, is a melissa - a honey nymph. Her skin is golden buttercream in the lamplight. Her dark gold hair falls in the tapering shape of a magnolia petal over one shoulder, tinged pink at the tip. Her sharp ears poke from a woven crown of lilac flowers, the same colour as the dress that hangs loosely off her narrow shoulders. 

Zeus raises his eyebrows. He knows the melissae well. In his first escape from Kronos, they nursed him with honey, tending his wounds and bringing his hunger to life - the hunger he relies on to win. He’s weaker than his father, smaller, less ruthless, less cunning. But, Gods Damn, he’s hungrier. Maybe Kronos can eat his own children. Zeus can eat up the whole world. He’ll consume this mountain before he lets Kronos take its summit and the crown. His victory, his revenge, will taste like honey.

He smiles at the nymph.

He flicks his eyes back to Hera with a question. She sits astride his lower thighs, twisting her spun-gold hair in her hands seductively, so the firelight spirals down it in slick ribbons. Her nipples and her clit glimmer like gooseberries. Her vanilla pout curls into a daring, tempting grin. Zeus’ cock pulses. The back of his neck tingles. 

The melissa draws his head into her lap and he groans at the softness, his eyes dusting the curve of her breasts over him. Her hands mould over his shoulders and start to rub them deep. The soothing kneading of his sore muscles trickles like syrup through his body. He lets his vision blur in the shadows. Hera’s familiar, electrifying touch strokes up and down his thighs. And then…

Hands.

More hands.

He blinks rapidly and his eyes dazzle with amber and gold, as he sees they are surrounded by melissae, reclining and kneeling around the divine couple, filling the cavern with their rich, delicious scent. They lean over him, stopping his breath, clogging his mouth and throat with their cloying sweetness. They stroke his abs, his arms, his hands, his face, his chest. Their touch is slow and pressing. It turns him to molten metal, warps and shapes him and makes him chokingly, unbearably hot. They pluck his nipples between finger and thumb, they flutter their fingertips on his palms, they skate around his cock and graze it with cruel teases. He hears a bee-hum of mockery, as his hips tilt to chase their touch. Hera rocks in her seat with a cutting chuckle. As she starts to topple, a melissa catches her and they fall into an easy, messy kiss. Zeus’ pupils yawn. The melissa gently cups Hera’s round breast and caresses it, delving her tongue deep. Hera turns gluttonous, snacking on the melissa’s sugary mouth, her grip smouldering on Zeus’ thighs, as her arousal heightens. Another nymph plants delicate kisses along her shoulder. Hera looks like a proud yellow iris blooming among crocuses. She is regal. She is as hungry as he is.

Warmth.

Stickiness.

Zeus gasps. He pulls his eyes from Hera and looks around like a trapped hare to see the melissae around him exchanging mischievous grins, the uptilts of their noses twitching. They hover their hands over his body, and rub their fingers and thumbs together, and from them threads of viscous, glistening honey trickle down onto his skin and pool in tingling coins. He looks like mined rock, veins and nuggets of gold across the plain of his broad, dimpled form. The honey shines in the furrows of his hips and chest, it gums his nipples, laces his collar, criss-crosses over his abs, lines the fine ridge of tendons in his arm. He feels weighed down with it. The eagerness on the nymphs’ faces sparks his heart into explosive pounding.

They look to Hera. 

Hera looks to Zeus. 

Zeus looks to Hera, wild-eyed and speechless. He is nervous. He wants whatever comes next so much that he can almost feel it already, his flesh sings with it. 

_ Please,  _ he mouths soundlessly.

Hera cocks an eyebrow. She looks down on him, haughty, commanding, and wickedly amused by the riot of need and surprise he knows he is failing to keep from whirling across his face.

She nods.

A primal, effervescing growl erupts from Zeus, as he is buried under an avalanche of lips and tongues. The melissae converge on him, like wolves, and devour him with hot, ravenous mouths. They take long, lascivious laps, scatter light pecks, suck him raw, nibble him to burning. Their mouths are sticky and sloppy and they giggle and sigh with enjoyment, as they meet each other over his belly button and sternum to bite the tips of each other’s noses, or tickle each other under the chin. Honey smears their impish faces, their eyes sparkle with hints of lustful pink. They reach across him to tweak and tease and stroke each other, turning him into a gushing river under a bridge of pleasure. The crowding of their warm, fragrant flesh clouds Zeus’ senses. He is lost in it, reeling. The scent is as dense as cotton, drugging, so overpoweringly sweet he almost gags. He hurtles into rapture. The world ends at the tip of his senses. He wants nothing but to be eaten alive. He can feel their tongues and the weighty moisture of honey right to his bone. His blood turns to honey, galloping heavily through his arteries.

One melissa gives herself over to dining on his and Hera’s entwined thighs. She scoops her daffodil hair on top of her head, and he can see the undulations of her spine, as she gulps honey down like a gazelle at a watering hole. One snuggles along Zeus’ side and nuzzles into his neck and sucks, until his jugular is throbbing against her lips. One taunts his nipple with flickering licks, alternating the soothing drizzle of honey with the merciless chiselling of her tongue. One lifts his hand and webs it in honey, then sucks each finger clean with slow, indulgent, caressing kisses, her eyes rolling back into her head. Zeus’ face turns to her and he stares, stunned. She catches his eye, and her teeth emerge on his pinky finger. She raises up onto her knees. She holds his gaze with a twinkle, as she guides his hand between her legs. Her pussy is softer than tulips. He fits his fingers to her furrows and feels her pleasure well in the cup of his hand, as she grinds on his touch and her hum turns low. He moans hoarsely. His cock strains.

He drops his cheek into the pillow of the melissa cradling his head, and kisses her lap through her dress. She bends, kisses his cheek, then kneels up and combs her fingers through his hair. The sensation showers him, he is so desperately tender that he feels every touch like he’s been peeled. She teases out his hair like silk threads, massaging his scalp, tickling his ear, braiding the long tresses and smiling down at him. She plucks blossoms from her flower crown to decorate the indigo plait. Another melissa casts a brassy shadow over Zeus. She cups his chin and straightens his head and circles her fingers over his mouth. Honey richness coats his tongue, she falls to it and her kiss spins his mind.

When he resurfaces, the taste webbing his mouth, he can just glimpse Hera through the enchanting confusion of bodies, still astride his thighs, her weight his only point of anchor to the earth. A nymph at each side fawns over her, running their lips down her arms and ducking to suck her nipples, eyes reverently closed. She is watching him from just behind the sultry sweep of her lustrous hair. 

She glows. 

The recently-healed, crossed wounds over her taut belly glint like stitches of copper thread. The lamp light drapes the swell of her thighs. She moves like a flame, rocking her hips, so her body cascades with light and shadow. His eyes cling to the movement. His aching cock pounds. Her gleaming pussy is so close. So fucking close. Not close enough. Her eyes blaze. She sneaks her hand down her rolling torso and lays it over the treasure he can’t stop staring at. She circles her fingertips. A smooth moan unspools from her lips and is echoed by the melissae, buzzing through Zeus’ nerves. Hera drinks him in. She pleasures herself to the sight of him overwhelmed and hard and yearning. His mouth goes dry. He sucks greedily on his tongue. The scent and taste of honey is so thick, he can almost see it in an amber mist. The nymphs continue their exquisite torment in cycles of tickling drizzles and searing sucks. They drag their mouths closer and closer to his cock. Each time their breath tickles him, he lurches up to close the gap and they skitter away with a cackle that scorches the back of his neck.

Hera prowls forward to lean over Zeus’ lower body. Her attending nymphs move like stirred sauce, their kisses sliding to her back. With one hand, she keeps up her touch on herself, Zeus’ gaze magnetic on the deep, confident exploring of her fingers in her ample, delectable folds. With the other, she reaches out and curls her grip around his cock. 

Thunder rolls up his spine. 

Hera chuckles, as he rasps and jerks, her touch rushing him with desire. She starts up a firm, rhythmic stroke, twisting and massaging, palming the head and thumbing the tip. The pleasure is violent after the tumult of  _ almost  _ he just endured. He thrusts up into her hand, begging, gritting his teeth, and panting. The melissae giggle and rain kisses down his body, lighting charges across his skin that detonate in his cock. His cushion nymph pinches his cheek affectionately. He finds a moment’s relief in the softness of her braiding his hair. But he soon crashes back into the waves of heat washing him, turning him into eroding stone.

He tries to breathe. He chokes on the taste of honey.

Hera relinquishes him and he whimpers. She tuts and gives his abs a light slap. He jumps, casting a few mouths from him. They plummet back, hard and biting, scattering bee-stings of pain across his flesh. 

Hera cups the pert chin of a melissa at Zeus’ hip and pulls her into a slow, dominating kiss. The nymph’s eyes are round and bright, as Hera pushes her back and guides her down. 

Zeus’ heart bucks. 

The melissa twizzles her fingers over his thudding abdomen. Velvet honey oozes over his cock, then her mouth oozes over the honey. He cries out, but it's stopped by a stirring kiss swooping down from his cradling nymph. The melissa’s lips envelop his cock, and slide up and down in deep plunging motions, summoning his pleasure in surges. Her tongue snakes, hollowing and puffing her cheeks, as it works him like the string of a lathe, wriggling over the tip, sawing around the ridge beneath the head. She slathers his straining length, making him so hot and slick that he slides in and out of her mouth like a knife through warm butter. She moans and it courses through him. He trembles. He writhes and the fur burns his back. Hera still looks down on him, like a diving falcon. Her touch speeds up on her clit. Zeus’ mouth waters and drool spills from its corner. Someone licks it away and nips his jaw. Someone else sucks his nipple and sends a shock of pleasure through him. Someone else spreads honey over his abs, her hands are satin. The nymph on his cock takes him deep and shallow by turns, her mouth covering every part of his cock with a chorus of sensation. 

She pops free, his dew shining on her lower lip, beside a stain of honey. His cock goes cold and the ache sharpens brutally. Then her mouth is on him again. Then another’s. Then another’s. They pass him between them like a drinking horn. Their sighs, tuts, gratuitous slurps, and the satisfying smack of their lips echoes in the cavern and dizzies him desperate. Titans, the saccharin filthiness of it. Zeus’ drenched, sweetened, pumping cock screams for release. He grits his teeth against it, a string of moans hissing from him, like escaping steam. He squints through the storm of kissing and licking and sucking and stroking and rubbing and pinching. He pins his focus to Hera’s self-pleasure, to the way she rides his need like she’s breaking a wild horse. 

_ Please. _

He isn’t even sure if he so much as mouths it this time. He just glares pathetically at her and hopes she understands. 

She grins. 

She slinks forward and gently, but firmly, disperses the gaggle of nymphs swarming his cock. The others peel away from him too, cooling him and leaving him viciously tender. He looks down his body and his cheeks inflame, as he sees his ruined beauty. His chest is billowing with the effort of staying in control. His torso is littered with bite marks and sticky, shimmering smears of honey, his nipples are flushed blackberry and pointing like thorns. The tremor in his muscles is humiliatingly visible. His neck tickles with the pretty flowers dressing his adorable braid. His eyes widen at how swollen his cock is, almost bulbous, the deep indigo glimmering warmer with the rush of ichor, the veins etched stark in the flickering light, glazed with the melissae’s saliva. 

He gulps. 

Hera has never seen him quite like this. He’s in a better state after most battles, for Titans’ sake. He looks at her with timidity that jabs his spine. Her lips are parted. Her eyes veil, almost dreamy. She creeps over him, like a leopard, her breasts bunching forward, her hair brushing his flank. She settles over his cock. Her heat slams through his nerves. She reaches between them and positions him softly. His tip slips around her entrance, they’re both so wet it's like trying to stack two ice cubes. She sinks down. She takes the fullness of him into herself, engulfs him in a perfect potion of softness and firmness, tightness and give. She casts her head back as he drives into her, her hair tosses and flashes like lightning. Her gasp lances the muggy, sweat-and-honey air. She drives her fingernails into his abs. He snarls and it tumbles into a groan, as her wonderful, hot core moulds around him, clasps him. Sensation spills over him. She begins to rock and twist, herding droves of pleasure through his body with her controlled, powerful movements. 

She is a goddess.

He feels like her altar. 

All around them, the melissae entwine, kissing, embracing, rolling on the furs, sneaking mouths and hands down over bellies and up the insides of thighs. The cavern rings with music; the overlapping harmonies of women’s pleasure, Hera’s low, hoarse breathing, Zeus' wordless, needy mumbling, the slurp and clap of their bodies, as he meets her rhythm with deep thrusts. Zeus is lashed by want. He lunges forward and catches Hera in his strong arms. He snares her in a longing, adoring kiss. Her mouth is coated in honey, it plunders his senses. He kisses her as if she is a vessel for his soul, he pours himself into her, thrusting even deeper. He grabs her thigh with one large hand and crushes it to his hip, so she’ll hold him tighter. Her hands clamp the back of his neck and she meets him with ferocity. She is never subdued by him, not at his most forceful. The Golden Traitor doesn’t have it in her to retreat.

He breaks their kiss to breathe and stars pop in his pupils. He is dimply aware of lips tracing down his back, misted with sweat and plastered with fur fibres. A nymph reaches over from her embrace with two others and drizzles honey over Hera’s shoulder. Zeus dives for the bait and sucks it away, his lips gumming in it. Another steals her hand between them and drizzles honey on Hera’s breast, a globule glistening on her large, erect nipple. Zeus dives again. Hera pricks the back of his neck with her fingernails and moans high. Another nymph pokes Hera’s ear, leaving a dot of amber liquid. Zeus smiles and sucks it. She wriggles. The grind on his cock makes him buck beneath her. He floods with lust. His cock pumps and pulses. He chuckles darkly at the shock of it. He feels an answering spasm in Hera, it thrills him.

“So…” he whispers breathlessly into her ear, “What was this about?”

Hera trails one hand to his shoulder and flexes the other around his neck to lightly hold his throat. Her thumbnail traces his larynx. He stiffens and swallows. She keeps moving, her body charging static between them.

“Because, Future King…” Her murmur vibrates his vertebrae. “You are a man made for temptation, hunger will rule you, as you rule the rest of us. But I want you to remember this: you will never know pleasure like I can give you. You are mine. I curse you, God of Gods. I entrap you. For all eternity.”

The growl that escapes Zeus sends a shudder through the stream of writhing nymphs. His eyes flash, his jaw sets, sieving his following moan through his teeth. He grasps her hard. He thrusts deep, moving faster, twisting against her to grind pleasure into her. She gasps and rides him rough, her gaze hotter than the sun. Her hands clench, pressing on his throat, flinging more stars into his vision. 

“Well…” Zeus pants, his canines emerging, his heart hammering, as he gorges on the sight of Hera on the verge, “Two can play at that game.”

He kisses her. He flies on the pleasure of it to the power at his centre. He unlocks. Lightning leaks from him. A fine, dazzling thread of it unravels from his rolling body. It webs Hera. It sparks on her skin, binds her in pulsing electricity, shimmering over her, transforming her into a falling star. She throws her head back and half groans, half screams in ecstasy. Her climax explodes, the bright current rushing it around her. Wild, spiking pleasure erupts over her body. She shakes and contorts. Her hair streams in the air. Zeus is mesmerised. Her orgasm is nature at its most savage and stormy. Her core grips Zeus’ cock and fires him, like a bow. He roars with release, sending another web of lightning out over the river of bodies. One by one, it takes the melissae. They squeal and moan and jerk their hips, flip like fish, tear the furs in their fists. The cavern fizzes with blinding light. Zeus’ blood races over the cacophony of pleasure. He loses the definition between his own pounding climax and those around him, piercing his body as pleasure shoots between them in the net of lightning. 

The sensations bolt…

Blaze…

Shock...

Strike.

The cavern dims again, warm and echoing with the last tendrils of blissful sighs. 

Zeus tumbles back onto the furs. His heart thuds almost painfully against his breastbone. His muscles turn to pudding. His breath grates. His smile spreads broad and doped. Hera collapses forward onto his chest. Her hair gushes over him. Her fingers grip his flesh. Her back rises and falls under his hands with hot, heaving breaths.

They lie in a lagoon of gold, the scent of honey wending its way out into the night.


End file.
